


Dead of Night

by Airie



Series: Lad [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amnesia, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Public Scene, Singing, Song Lyrics, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airie/pseuds/Airie
Summary: Brynjolf gets serenaded by his favorite protege before Mercer takes him to Snow Veil Sanctum.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Series: Lad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630771
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer: Story inspired by lyrics to Orville Peck's "Dead of Night" I do not own the song. [Check it out on yt!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiotF04XBFY&list=RDMMZiotF04XBFY&index=1)

“Here you go. Did the job nice and clean, they never saw me coming. Or leaving. They didn’t see me at all is what I’m saying.” Lored boasted, handing over to Vex a pouch with valuables he looted from a wealthy family all the way up in Markarth.

“Great.” The woman replied drily, putting the bag away to count out Lored’s coin. “Here’s your pay, try not to spend it all immediately. Now, I got more jobs lined up-“

“I’ll have to pass, sorry.” The man interrupted with a wave and sigh. Vex was difficult to deal with, but she paid alright. He could use some more gold, but his schedule was full.

“What, you too good to earn the Guild more coin?” The Imperial asked crossing her arms and glaring daggers at him. She had no patience to deal with layabouts, and definitely not the chatty type.

“Nah, of course not! I love larceny and getting paid as much as the next thief, but Mercer needs me. We’re going on an adventure together.” Lored confessed, hoping the grin and wink he gave her were enough to mask his apprehension. He was not looking forward to head out with the Guildmaster to Snow Veil Sanctum. The very prospect gave him the chills. And not just due to the ruin’s name or location. 

“He needs you? Mercer?” She made sure, staring the annoying man down with doubt she didn’t even bother to mask.

“I know, right?” He chuckled, brushing his short blond hair back, eying the pile of ready to fence goods Vex had stacked up behind her. “Whoa… how did you get your hands on that beauty?” He suddenly asked, pointing at an item at the very top of the pile; a modest, yet skillfully crafted mahogany guitar.

“We hit a merchant caravan the other day. They had a bard with them. Bastard ran off and left it behind the second he saw us. His loss.” Vex explained with a nonchalant shrug.

“How much?” Lored asked without thinking, overtaken by some strange impulse.

“For you…” Vex paused to assess her mark. “Fifty.”

“Oh, come on! A lute costs half that price!”

“Poor you.” The woman’s golden eyes remained indifferent.

“How about I serenade you? Hm?” Lored offered, despite knowing haggling with the ice-cold Imperial was pointless.

“Then I’ll charge you double.”

“Okay, fine. Here.” He grunted defeated, handing over a portion of his pay. “You have no heart.”

Vex took the gold without as much as a blink making no comment on the remark. Yet, she stepped away for Lored to retrieve the guitar from her hoard of goods. It was even more beautiful once he held it up to the sparse light. A fine piece of craftsmanship, no doubt Redguard.

The thief smiled like an idiot, overtaken by excitement. Almost a year ago he woke up in the Jerall Mountains covered in blood from a fresh cut on his face and no recollection who he was or how he got there. He had no time to dwell on it as some people were chasing him. So, he ran. Then, he got caught with a bunch of rebels and lined up for execution. And then a dragon came, so he ran again.

Skyrim was a great place to run around with no fixed destination. Funny thing, he never got to remember who he was or why he was on the run. But some seemingly irrelevant triggers made him remember small parts of himself. Like when he held a bow for the first time. Or lifted a lockpick. Or ran a dagger against some sorry bastard’s throat.

He saw bards perform on their lutes countless times before, but his only reaction was faint amusement. However, something instantly clicked in his head when he saw a guitar. Slowly, things resurfaced from the back recesses of his memory. This wasn’t his first time handling such an instrument. He knew how, where and when to hold and stroke to play a melody. And not just one! He even knew words to accompany the melodies! Dibella’s fat titties, he _knew_ how to play _and_ sing!

He chuckled softly, amazed he could still surprise himself.

“Hey, I’m running an operation here! Go make a racket somewhere else.” Vex warned as he strung the instrument and tested out a few chords.

Lored said nothing. He had to get out of here to have a few moments for practice before Mercer comes. Because he could bet his ass the sordid Guildmaster would sooner break the guitar over his head than let him play on their way.

Wasting no time he turned around to march out of the Flagon with his palms sweaty and heart racing.

“What was that bit about serenading, lad?” A familiar voice asked, and although casual and friendly it was enough to stop Lored in his tracks like a command.

Brynjolf was sitting comfortably at one of the tables enjoying a drink. Usually Lored didn’t mind bumping into him around the Flagon or the cistern, but this was the worst possible time. And how hadn’t Lored noticed him earlier? Aw, shit he probably heard his entire exchange with Vex.

“Oh, jus some friendly barter.” He said nonchalantly, realizing too late he made the fatal mistake of halting and engaging when he should have just kept walking. This wasn’t the first time he made said mistake.

“I’m intrigued.” Brynjolf smirked, finishing his ale. The smile he gave Lored spelled trouble.

It looked like the Guild’s second was in the mood for some entertainment… at his protégé’s expense. Lored still had a chance to slip out of whatever he was getting himself into. He just had to act fast.

“I don’t blame you. Sometimes I intrigue myself. But I have to go, when you see Mercer tell him I’m waiting for him outside.” He spoke as calmly as he could, making a cautious step forward.

He was about to maneuver his way between the tables, but Brynjolf kicked a vacant a chair right in front of him, cutting off Lored’s escape route. The sound got the attention of a group playing dice in the corner. Etienne nudged Cynric on the shoulder to get his attention. The jailbreaker lifted his gaze from his dice, then whispered something in response and the two Bretons paused their game to gawk. The rest of their table followed suit, sensing something interesting was about to happen. 

“People are starting to stare.” Lored nervously pointed out, abandoning all hope of escape.

“They are. It would be pretty awkward if you’d walk out now.” Brynjolf noted innocently as if he hadn’t caused the scene.

“What do you want?” The junior thief whispered, visibly uncomfortable with the attention the two of them were receiving.

“Play for me.” Brynjolf teased with a mischievous look on his face. “Or did you buy that guitar just for decoration?”

Fucker. He was having a blast putting Lored in this awkward position. The other thieves began to whisper amongst themselves, with no intention of taking their eyes off the display. It was no use playing this off with humor or guile and if he’d decide to make a run for it he might as well never show his face down here again.

So… Bryn wanted a show? A bit of harmless teasing? Fine, Lored is going to give him a show. And make him taste if his own medicine.

Brynjolf smirked as his protégé rested one foot on the vacant chair and got the guitar ready. Oh, this should be fun. Lored gave him an innocent look, savoring the moment, well aware that smirk won’t stay on the redhead’s face for too long.

The Flagon was dead silent. Somewhere in the back someone whistled and drunkenly slurred some unrecognizable words of encouragement. Lored strummed the strings, his fingers moving seemingly without his involvement. Although the guitar wasn’t the heavy orcish bow he carried on his back, he knew how to use it to its fullest potential.

“Well? We’re waiting.” Brynjolf taunted, leaning back in his seat, confident and smug.

Lored took a deep breath and started the performance.

_“The sun goes down, another dreamless night - you’re right by my side”_ He sang in a smooth, warm tone no one would never suspect him of. _“You wake me up, you say it’s time to ride - in the dead of night”_

Brynjolf’s chair front legs hit the floor with a loud thud as the redhead abruptly sat up. Lored winked, glad to have his superior’s undivided attention. Oh, but he was just getting started.

_“You say go fast I say hold on tight_

_In the dead of night - dead of night”_

“Oh shit, do you see the look on his face?” Someone whispered sharply. Lored wasn’t sure who was it, but he was certain they didn’t mean him.

Brynjolf was professional enough to close his mouth after his initial surprise. But like with all redheads he blushed easily and the red on his face said it all – he was not expecting this outcome.

Lored had him off guard and was relishing every second of it. It was time to hit him with the chorus. He moved in closer for the kill, singing and playing his bittersweet tune, the words coming to him naturally somewhere from the past.

_“See - see the boys as they walk on by_

_See - see the boys as they walk on by_

_It’s enough to make a young man –“_

Lored was now leaning over the Guild’s second, so close that Brynjolf wouldn’t even need to get up from his chair to nuzzle against his protégé’s scruffy jaw. The redhead swallowed, although his mouth was completely dry. Lored’s amber eyes glimmered as the blond thief sang words of longing for something long gone. Words meant only for him.

_“Six summers down, another dreamless night - you’re not by my side_

_Scratch on the moon like a familiar smile - stained on my mind_

_Some other town, someone else’s life - dead in the night - in the night”_

Although he could not keep his eyes off Lored’s, Brynjolf knew the entire room was watching him get humbled by the younger thief. Well, he had it coming. He teased the lad too hard and got more than he’d bargained for. This is going to be the talk of the Guild for a few nights. He smiled back at Lored and nodded ever so slightly, acknowledging he got taken down a notch by his own underling. Fair, he deserved it.

_“See - see the boys as they walk on by_

_See - see the boys as they walk on by_

_It’s enough to make a young man – “_

“What is that racket?!” Mercer called out, entering the tavern through the secret back entrance, instantly killing the mood. “What’s going on here?” He grunted with annoyance, surveying the room. All thieves froze in place, none dared to flinch or make the faintest sound.

“Our lad here was demonstrating his hidden talent.” Brynjolf explained quickly, getting a grip of himself, ready to take on all of Mercer’s wrath if necessary.

“Talent we don’t pay him for. You sure know how to pick them.” The Guildmaster grunted, voice dripping with disapproval. “I’m off. You” he addressed Lored, “meet me at the city gate. Don’t even think about taking that damned noise box with you. Brynjolf, keep an eye on things while I’m gone. The rest of you, get back to work, show’s over!”

With that, he marched out of the Flagon leaving everyone in silence so awkward one could hear skeevers scuttling in the dark.

“I swear that guy sucks all the warmth out of the room when he walks in.” Lored muttered under his breath, shrugging off the uneasiness he always felt whenever Mercer was around. “I can already tell the trip is going to be fun. Hold onto this for me, okay?” He sighed, handing Brynjolf the guitar.

Fingers brushed. They shared a look but the moment had passed.

“You be careful around him.” The redhead warned, taking the instrument.

“Do I look like I have a deathwish? Relax, I’ll be back before you miss me.” Lored smirked, adjusting the pack and bow on his back. “Cause we both know you will.”

Whistling a tune, he turned around and was gone before Brynjolf could say something clever.


End file.
